


Cupcake

by cherrybina



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Cupcakes, Light Bondage, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrybina/pseuds/cherrybina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only one thing Eames wants for his birthday. Two, if you count the cupcakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cupcake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skellerbvvt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skellerbvvt/gifts).



> Happy birthday skeller! This does not come close to making up for all of the awesome comment fic you've written for me, but there's an oxford shirt and Arthur's frowny face and lots and lots of love from me to you.

“I don’t want you to buy me anything extravagant for my birthday,” Eames says to Arthur one morning.

It’s a week before Eames’ actual birthday, and they’re sitting at a booth in the back corner of a diner, waiting for the call from Cobb telling them it’s time to move.

“What makes you think I was planning on buying you anything at all?” Arthur asks, wiping his hands on a napkin and pushing his plate away.

“Arthur, please. Give me some credit. I know you well enough to know that underneath that immaculate exterior lies the heart of a - ”

“Whatever it is you’re about to say,” Arthur interrupts, “I can guarantee it’s going to piss me off.”

Eames grins and leans back in the booth. “You really need to learn how to take a compliment, love.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Fine, I won’t buy you an expensive birthday present. Is there something else you want instead?”

“As a matter of fact there is. I want you. In bed. All for me.”

“You want to have sex with me,” Arthur says, looking confused. “How’s that different from any other night?”

Eames licks his lips and leans his elbows onto the table. “It’s different because I want to tie you up.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You want to - ”

“Tie you to the bed, yes,” Eames says, grinning across the table at Arthur.

Arthur frowns and sips his coffee. Eames much prefers it when Arthur smiles, and he can see those ridiculous dimples, but the way his forehead wrinkles up when he frowns is oddly endearing, much like everything Arthur does.

“Is that a yes?” Eames asks when Arthur doesn’t say anything.

“Are you sure there isn’t something you want me to buy you for your birthday?” Arthur asks, still frowning.

Eames considers this for a moment, picking at the remains of his toast. “You could buy me cupcakes. I like those fancy ones, with mounds of icing on top.”

“You would be willing to trade cupcakes for that?” Arthur asks skeptically.

“Oh no,” Eames clarifies. “I want cupcakes _and_ you tied to the bed.”

“You’re awfully greedy,” Arthur says, signalling the waitress for their check.

“Think about how much you’d spend if you were going to buy me a proper present. All I want is you tied to the bed.”

“And cupcakes,” Arthur adds.

“And cupcakes,” Eames agrees. “It’s a bargain, really.”

“I appreciate your concern for my financial well being, but I can’t help but question your motives.”

“Well, yes, I admit that my motivation stems from wanting to see you tied to the bed, but I do care about your finances, so much so that I’ll pay for breakfast.”

Arthur just stares at Eames, and doesn't say a word. A minute later, Arthur’s phone buzzes, and he looks down at the message. “That’s our call,” he says.

Eames pulls out his wallet and drops some money down on the table.

“I’m taking this as a yes,” Eames says as he follows Arthur out the door.

***

On the night of his birthday, Arthur lets Eames drag him to the bedroom. Arthur strips out of his jacket and trousers, but Eames stops him when he reaches for his tie.

“Let me?” he asks, and Arthur nods.

Eames unties Arthur’s tie, then hooks it around his own neck for safekeeping.

“You’re going to use my tie, aren’t you?”

Eames glances up from where he’s unbuttoning Arthur’s shirt. “I thought you would appreciate it because it’s familiar to you.”

“Spare me the bullshit, Eames. You just have some weird fetish for seeing me tied up with my own tie.”

“You really don’t get out much if you think tying your hands to the bed is a weird fetish,” Eames says, tugging Arthur’s boxer briefs down his legs so Arthur can step out of them.

Arthur starts to pull his shirt off, but Eames stops him with a hand to his arm. “Leave it on.”

Arthur stretches out on the bed while Eames strips out of his own clothes. He keeps Arthur’s tie around his neck, then climbs up and straddles Arthur’s thighs. Despite Arthur’s protests, his cock is hard against his belly, and he makes a soft sound when Eames rocks his hips, rubbing them together.

Eames sits back and pulls one end of the tie, the silky material sliding easily on his skin. “Arms up,” he says softly.

Arthur stares at him silently for a moment, before slowly raising his arms above his head. Eames leans forward and secures Arthur’s wrists to the headboard, taking care that he’s not bound too tightly. The tie is a deep red color with a diamond print, and it makes a bold contrast to the crisp white of Arthur’s cuffs, the same way it did when it was around his neck. Eames breath catches at the sight, but when he finishes, he looks down and finds Arthur frowning up at him, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Why on earth do you look so angry?”

Arthur’s glare turns deadly. “Because I’m tied to the fucking bed,” he says through clenched teeth.

“But you’re tied to the bed in a sexy way,” Eames says, trailing his hand down Arthur’s skin, pushing his shirt so that it falls open, revealing the pale skin of his chest. “That means only good things are going to happen, I promise.”

“I’ll untie you if you want,” Eames continues when Arthur just keeps glaring at him. “I’ll be incredibly sad and disappointed, but I’ll do it.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little emotionally manipulative?” Arthur asks. “I don’t think that’s very good for our relationship.”

Eames grins and leans in, bracing himself on his arms and hovering just above Arthur’s face. “Oh, darling, I had to emotionally manipulate you into admitting we even _have_ a relationship, so I consider it one of my most effective tactics. Though perhaps after tonight I can add tying you up to the list.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, but his face relaxes, and the tense wrinkle in his forehead softens. He tilts his head back and looks up at his wrists. “These are shitty knots, Eames. I know you can do better than this. I’ve _seen_ you do better than this.”

“This is your show now. Ask me to untie you and I will. Break free of the knots yourself and walk away. Or, stay right where you are and tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

Arthur settles his head back on the pillow. “I thought the point of tying me up was so you could do whatever you wanted to me.”

“No, the point of tying you up was to _tie you up_. I wanted to see what you look like with your arms stretched over your head, tied with your very own tie, watch you struggle against the knots while I do all sorts of filthy wonderful things to you. And now I want you to tell me exactly what filthy wonderful things you want.”

“But - ” Arthur starts, but he trails off when Eames leans in and presses his mouth to Arthur’s. Eames kisses him until Arthur melts into the sheets, his forehead smoothing out and the tense lime of his jaw relaxing.

“You look so lovely bound with your pretty red tie and your shirt hanging off you,” Eames murmurs, breathing hot against Arthur’s skin, “Just waiting for me. Now, tell me what you want so I can make you feel good.”

“Your mouth,” Arthur says breathlessly after a minute. “I want - I want your tongue inside me.”

Eames pulls back so he can grin down at Arthur. “You want me to lick you until you’re dripping from my mouth, get you all wet and open for me, while you just lie back and take it like a good boy?”

Arthur’s freezes for a moment, then the frown reappears. “Seriously, Eames?”

“You can’t possibly expect me not to take advantage of the fact that you can’t punch me in the face right now.”

Arthur brings one knee up to his chest and nudges Eames’ cheek with his foot. “I could break your jaw.”

“Yes, I’m quite aware of that. But if you did, then how would I spread you open and eat you out until you’re trembling and begging for more like a little slut?”

This time Arthur’s eyes flutter shut and his breath hitches in his chest as his head falls back on the pillow.

“That’s it,” Eames says, sliding lower and breathing over Arthur’s cock. “Let me take care of you.”

He moves his mouth lower, and Arthur opens his legs, giving Eames access to the soft skin of his inner thigh. Eames kisses a path from Arthur’s thigh to the base of his cock, then he spreads Arthur open and leans in.

One of the things Eames loves best about rimming Arthur is that Arthur is physically unable to stay quiet. Eames teases about it sometimes, tells Arthur that they can’t ever do this in public because he’s so damned loud when Eames licks into him. They’ve had plenty of sex in public toilets and back alleys, and whether it’s hand jobs or blow jobs or even fucking, Arthur can hold back the sounds he makes when they’re in private. But the moment Eames spreads Arthur open and licks his hole, he starts moaning and cursing like a fucking porn star. Eames thinks it’s fantastic.

Eames holds Arthur open and licks over his hole again and again, just barely pressing in, delighting in the way Arthur lets out a series of breathy moans, getting louder with every pass. When Arthur is soaking wet and his hole is pink and quivering under Eames’ mouth, Eames pushes Arthur up, lifting his hips off the bed, and fucks into him with his tongue. Arthur’s thighs fall wide open and the sound he makes is _glorious_ , and Eames has to take a breath so he doesn’t come right there. Eames can feel Arthur’s muscles twitching beneath his skin, but Arthur is pinned by the hips and tied to the bed with no leverage - no way to do anything except take it and take it.

Eames knows he can make Arthur come just like this. He just needs to slip a finger in along with this tongue, stroke a hand over Arthur’s cock, rubbing his thumb just below the head and it will all be over, but Eames doesn’t want this to end while he’s down here where he can’t _see_.

He pulls his mouth away and crawls up the bed, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. The picture Arthur makes is obscene - arms stretched tight above his head, crisp white shirt pooling around him, and his legs wide open in an invitation Eames can’t refuse.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” Eames says, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Yeah,” Arthur gasps, his head falling back against the pillows, spreading his legs further. “Fuck yes.”

Eames slicks up his fingers and pushes them into Arthur, and he’s so open and wet from Eames’ mouth that they slide right in with no resistance. He pulls his fingers free and rubs his hand over his cock, then he’s pushing in and in, until his balls are snug against Arthur’s ass.

Eames hooks his hands under Arthur’s knees and pushes them up to his chest. He never gets tired of the way Arthur just _bends_ , and he lifts Arthur’s legs higher, holding them wide open. Arthur clenches his hands into fists, and Eames can see the muscles of Arthur’s arms tense under his skin where they’re stretched above his head. Arthur’s head is thrown back, and he’s flushed from his face all the way down to his belly, and he groans when Eames pulls out, then thrusts back in, sinking all the way to the hilt.

“Look at you,” Eames says, as he fucks Arthur slow and deep. “You love this, don’t you? All that arguing at the start and it turns out you love being tied up with me holding down so you can’t move, isn’t that right?”

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut and arches his back, and he moans as Eames’ cock moves inside him.

“Say it,” Eames says breathlessly. “I want to hear you tell me how much you love it like this.”

Arthur opens his eyes and looks up at Eames, flushed and already fucked out. “Harder,” he gasps. “Fuck me harder.”

Eames digs his fingers into the backs of Arthur’s thighs, pushes until Arthur’s feet are up by his bound wrists, and fucks him hard. Eames’ skin is hot all over, and it feels like it’s stretched too tight across his body; Arthur is bent in half beneath him, begging for _more_ and _harder_ and _yeah, yeah, yeah_ , and Eames knows he’s going to come hard, but all he can do is hold onto Arthur’s thighs and fuck into him over and over.

Arthur’s orgasm hits fast. His whole body seizes up and he comes all over his chest, squeezing tight around Eames’ cock. Eames fucks him right through it - he’s so close he can feel it burning at the back of his head and the base of his spine, and when Arthur starts making these little _ah ah ah_ noises, Eames can’t hold back a moment longer and he comes, shuddering as he fills Arthur up.

Eames wants nothing more than to collapse indefinitely so he can catch his breath, but he can feel Arthur shaking beneath him, so he pulls out with a sticky wet sound and immediately unties Arthur’s wrists. Arthur hisses when he brings his arms down, and Eames helps him out of his shirt, which is rumpled and streaked with Arthur’s come.

Eames lays on the pillow beside Arthur, and takes his wrists, rubbing gently at the reddened skin. After a few minutes of quiet, Eames says, “I know that was supposed to be my present, but don’t even try to tell me you didn’t love it.”

Arthur shrugs, but he’s plaint and loose-limbed, and can’t suppress his smile. “It was okay,” he says. “Though you lose points for leaving marks.”

“Next time we could try padded cuffs,” Eames tells him. “They might be even softer than silk.”

“Next time?” Arthur says, smirking at Eames. “Fuck that. Next time I’m tying _you_ up, though that’s not going to stop you from running at the mouth, is it?”

Eames laughs. “I’d offer to let you gag me, but I think you love it when I don’t shut up.”

Arthur smiles again, and Eames reaches out and gently strokes his cheek.

“I bought you cupcakes,” Arthur says a moment later. “Fancy ones, with butterscotch icing. They’re in the kitchen.”

Eames feels a surge of affection wash over him. “I love cupcakes,” he tells Arthur.

“I know,” Arthur says, still smiling, and it really is so much better than the frown.

They eat cupcakes in bed, getting crumbs all over the sheets, and when Arthur tries to protest, Eames quiets him with sugar-sticky kisses.

When they're finished, they stretch out under the blankets, on their sides lying face to face. Eames hooks his arm around Arthur’s hip and tangles their legs together.

“I don’t want to hear a single complaint tomorrow about your birthday,” Arthur says, his voice sleepy. “You got exactly what you asked for.”

Eames smiles and pulls Arthur in. “It was everything I wanted,” he whispers before kissing Arthur, soft and sweet.


End file.
